In the fall of 1996, Quinn Barry had a bit of a problem. Heading into that year's high school basketball season, Barry, the coach at Central Lake in northern Michigan, was short on depth and speed. He needed help at the guard position, someone who could run the Trojans' fast break and get his team some easy buckets.

A senior at the time, Shay had given up playing competitive hoops after middle school to concentrate on his first -- and best -- love: running. It was a wise move. Shay could run long, he could run short, and he could do it all well. He won a state cross-country title his freshman year, and then went on to win three more, becoming the only Michigan high school runner ever to collect four cross-country titles. He won seven more championships in track for tiny Central Lake, a school four hours north of Detroit with just about 400 students.

But it was shortly after Shay captured his final cross title that Barry came calling.

"I told Ryan that basketball would improve his speed," the coach recalls. He chuckles at the memory.

Laughs have been few of late, ever since Ryan Shay, 10 years removed from Central Lake High, collapsed along the course of New York City's Central Park last Saturday while competing in the U.S. Olympic Men's Marathon Trials. He died minutes later. The cause of death has yet to be determined, but Shay's father, Joe, the boys' cross-country and track coach at Central Lake, has said his 28-year-old son had an enlarged heart and died of cardiac arrest.

Joe Shay and his wife, Susan, who coaches Central Lake's girls' team, have been at the school for years, so Quinn knows them well. He knows all the Shay children. All but one of Ryan's five brothers and two sisters passed through Quinn's American Government class. He remembers how through the years each Shay kid took a turn driving the family Saturn, and smiles at the thought.

The Shays are a big family in a small town -- the population of Central Lake is about 1,000; "Mayberry is what my friends who don't live here call it," says Barry -- and a family where running, especially high school running, was as core to their lives as holiday dinners and a reliable Saturn. Oldest sister Jodie got things rolling when she won a state cross-country championship; youngest brother Stephan finished the string with his own state title. In between came assorted awards for each Shay member. High school running always seemed front and center. Last Saturday morning, in fact, Joe and Susan were driving two of Central Lakes' girl runners to the Michigan state cross-country championships when they got word of their son's collapse.

"Joe has so much knowledge about distance running," says Barry, "while Sue is more the cruise director. She knows what kids need. The two of them hold things together for our track program."

Ryan Shay must have made his parents' jobs a bit easier. From the moment he started running for Central Lake, he showed the effort, focus, and dedication that would later earn him the nickname Workhorse. "He was the kind of runner who if he were doing mile repeats and didn't hit the time he wanted, he'd be throwing his watch," says Barry.

After one basketball practice (yes, the runner eventually accepted Barry's offer to play), Shay switched from his basketball shorts and into a pair of tights and took off on a 10-mile run. This was in February, and five to six feet of snow covered the ground. "He never missed his run," says Barry. A chuckle.

Another time, after Shay returned home from medaling at a regional meet, a teammate told him how impressed she was. As Barry recalls, "He said, 'Someday this is going to be a gold medal from the Olympics.'"

Shay pursued his Olympic dream long after he moved from Central Lake. First he went to the University of Notre Dame, then, after graduating, out west. He trained with some of the best athletes in America, and became friends with them along the way (he even married a runner: Alicia Craig, a 10,000-meter specialist). He developed from a middle-distance runner into a marathoner. He made his first Olympic bid in 2004, but pulled a hamstring during the trials and finished deep in the pack. He tried again last weekend in New York, looking for a slot on next year's U.S. team heading to Beijing. He was considered a long shot, but in marathoning unpredictability can be a runner's wild card.

Shay's run ended less than six miles into the 26.2-mile race.

While he traveled far in pursuit of his goal, Ryan Shay often found himself back in Central Lake, visiting his mom and dad and stopping by his old high school to chat with students. "Ryan would never want a stage," says Barry. "He would just walk the halls, knock on your classroom door, and come in and talk to the kids." About what? "Setting goals and achieving them." His voice cracks a bit.

This week, Ryan Shay returns home; his funeral is Sunday. Runners and coaches from around the country and world are expected to attend, and when they leave the town of Shay's youth, they'll understand their friend a little better. The weather he trained in, the roads and trails he liked to run on, and the high school where his talent first blossomed. For the past few nights, the track at Central Lake has been encircled with 200 candles alighting the oval. In the glow, with a Michigan autumn chill in the air, people quietly come to remember the runner.

Quinn Barry had the idea for the vigil. He's a Notre Dame fan, and when he makes his pilgrimage to South Bend for a football game, he usually stops by the Groto, the "Cave of Candles," not far from the school's historic football stadium. When he talked with Ryan on his visits back to Central Lake, for some reason the Groto often came up.

"The Central Lake Groto," Barry says, "will be a place to go and reflect."